Burn Life's House Down
by Alix Cohen
Summary: The world's two greatest lovers meet, and Hungary takes the day off. A combustible lemon.


**A/N:** Before I posted this, _no one_ had ever paired France with Jack Harkness on this site. Seriously? Anyway, enjoy.

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><p>Something smacked into Hungary's bedroom window. She opened it quickly and found a dazed Pierre lying on the sill, clutching a flat package bigger than it was. Hungary brought the bird inside and poured it a saucer of water, then opened the package, which was a CD case wrapped in white paper.<p>

The disc was labeled with yesterday's date, and the names "F. Bonnefoy" and "J. Harkness." Hungary grinned. She hadn't been expecting a new tape so soon—her senior agent in Paris was really on the ball. Not that France was discreet about who his partners were. But "Harkness" wasn't a name she'd heard before.

Her laptop found two files on the disc: a two-hour video and a half-hour of commentary by her agent. She opened both and started the commentary first. "Francis Bonnefoy and Jack Harkness," said a young woman's voice in American English. "Today just happened to be the day I came over to train Junior Agent Jeanne-Marie. Don't know where Bonnefoy found this guy, but I swear I've seen him before…anyway. Begin playback in five…four…three…" At zero, Hungary started the video.

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><p>"You are certain you don't mind?" France asks, glancing at the camera.<p>

"'Course not," says Jack, who looks and sounds like an American movie star. "In fact, I think I'm about to boost this lady's ratings." (The agent chuckles.) He leans forward and kisses France, with one eye on the camera. (Wow. Direct.)

It's a probing kiss, an invitation to which France responds eagerly, already working at Jack's shirt buttons. Jack responds by ripping France's shirt open, scattering buttons and tearing it nearly in half (That was silk. Ouch), then pulling his own shirt off over his head.

In less than a frenzied minute, they're naked (You might want to slow that down, Liz) and on the bed, caressing each other, every move calculated, every finger where it should be. This is the horizontal ballet that makes France Hungary's favorite subject.

And the newcomer is giving as good as he gets. There's a symmetry to the foreplay that isn't usually there—France almost always leads, but Jack is holding his own. (Did _you_ know the backs of France's knees are ticklish?) They're grappling, fighting for dominance, something France has never had to do before, and—

(The agent gasps.) _Jack_ is on top, riding with a grace she's only ever seen in France, and a rhythm that reminds Hungary oddly of jazz. The camera catches them in profile, the perfectly sculpted bodies of the god of love and his companion, and Hungary isn't sure anymore which is which.

France comes first (the agent moans as if it were her on the bed; Hungary feels it too, but controls herself better) and Jack rides it out without skipping a beat (Who the fuck is this guy?) Hungary agrees with her agent. He's a star, France's equal or better; why has she never heard of Jack Harkness?

Eventually they separate, lie facing each other, and talk too softly for the camera to hear. (I bet they're comparing notes.) Just as Hungary's caught her breath, they start again, with France on top this time. He makes a face at the camera, determined not to be outdone.

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><p>It's the age-old contest of masculine one-upmanship ("I'm not left-handed either"), and Hungary, the most skilled of judges, hadn't chosen the winner by the time her agent said "Pause tape in three…two…one…zero." Hungary froze it; the men on the screen were talking again. Nearly half an hour had passed.<p>

"This is the point where I stopped the video to go take a cold shower," the agent said. "I changed discs after two hours so that I could add a commentary to this one. They invited me to join them—I declined—and they were at it again before I left. I'll be sending you a second disc unpreviewed when Pierre Three returns. End commentary."

Hungary got up and wrote a quick congratulatory note to the agent, which she gave to the Pierre and sent it on its way. Closing the window, she realized her agent was right about the cold shower. She hadn't reached that point yet, but it hit her that she hadn't seen Austria in almost two weeks. She called him, and invited him to come over in an hour and a half.

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><p><em>The night before<em>

France is sore in places he's only ever heard others complain about. He's also lost track of time, not that it matters.

"So," a voice drawls behind him, "d'you think we put on a good show?"

France rolls onto his back and looks up at the strange human who he'd let talk his way into his bed and give him what just might be the best day of his life. "Of course we did," he says. "I think Madame Elizaveta will leave me alone for a while." He pauses. "What did you say your name was?"

The man sits up. "Captain Jack Harkness, late of Her Majesty's Navy," he says, "and I haven't been born yet." He seems unsure of why he'd said that, but it fits. "And what's your name, beautiful?"

"François Bonnefoi," says France, "and I've lived forever." That sounds right too.

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><p><strong>AN:** If you know what the title's about (no googling!), katzsoa and I will love you forever. Extra hugs if you can tell me what movie the agent quotes, and what _Doctor Who_ episode Jack quotes.

Also: I was asked for backstory, so here's how France and Jack got together. Jack is in Paris, because it's one of the sexiest places on earth. He sees France in a newspaper and looks him up. They decide to have sex, because they're France and Jack, and they go back to France's house. Hungary's assistant was in the right place at the right time.

This story pretty much inspired my whole Yaoi Agents AU. Hungary can't be everywhere at once, so she has girls in every major country running cameras for her.


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